


Playing with the Nine

by dolphidragon



Category: Spies Are Forever - Talkfine/Tin Can Brothers
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Russian Roulette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-09
Updated: 2019-06-09
Packaged: 2020-04-23 18:36:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19156660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dolphidragon/pseuds/dolphidragon
Summary: Curt and Owen go to Russia in order to locate and neutralize an enemy spy, and get any information they can. The mission goes smoothly until the suspect suggests they play Russian Roulette.





	Playing with the Nine

**Author's Note:**

> Just some TW for this fic:
> 
> \- Violence  
> \- A little homophobia (queer is used as a slur near the end)  
> \- A lot of swears
> 
> I think that's it, but please tell me if I missed anything.

_God this is going to be boring. It is way too early for this shit._

Curt sat at his desk, staring at his paperwork. Almost every file brought back a memory that he shared with a MI6 Agent he seemed to be paired with a lot. A slight smile eased onto his face as he flipped through an older file and remembered a particularly interesting case, that also had a particularly interesting ending. Curt could remember pretending to be tortured by him when-

“Curt!” His watch was yelling at him. 

He brought his wrist to his face, “Yes?”

“Come to my office.”

_Oh well, this’ll probably be better than writing reports about cases long past._

Curt sniffed and trudged his way to Cynthia’s office, ready to get yelled at and kind of complimented at the same time. 

“Yes Ma’am?” The man walked into his boss’s office and waited, hands wiping his nose before settling behind his back.

“Shhhhh! Shut the fuck up, Mega!” Cynthia whisper-yelled at Curt and continued to talk on the phone.

Curt grabbed a tissue, “So, should I-?”

Just then, Cynthia put the phone down. “Shut your fucking mouth and take a seat.” Cynthia pressed a cigar to her lips. “There’s a new mission for you.” 

Curt sat down in the chair opposite her desk. “Where am I going this time?” 

“Congrats, you get to see Russia. You’ve heard of the CPUSA, but have you ever heard of Alexander Koral?” She blew a puff of smoke.

Curt ignored the urge to tell her just how many times he’d already been to Russia to instead think about the words. He had a vague recollection of hearing Alexander Koral once or twice before, in passing conversations and late-night case file binges. It brought up a distant picture of hotel rooms. “I’m familiar with the name.” 

“You should be. Grab a file and feel free to go away.” She stood up and put her cigar out in the ashtray sitting on her desk. “By the way, you get MI6 Owen Carvour’s help with this one, and also that tissue was poisoned. Now get the fuck out of my office and your ass on a plane.” 

Curt jumped up, he was very well disciplined of course, and immediately felt nauseous. He grabbed the case file off of Cynthia’s desk and just barely kneeled over. 

“Don’t be such a baby, you’ll be fine. Now, please Mega, get the fuck out and do not fuck this up!” 

Curt stumbled his way out of the office and to his desk, where he gathered the things that he’d need. With a pounding head, an aching stomach, and a bag full of clothes, Curt set out to get on a plane for the long trip to Russia. For the first half of the flight he would be alone, but hopefully at the 7 hour mark he’d get to enjoy the presence of the one and only Owen Carvour. 

Curt stepped into the CIA’s very own private jet and sipped on a water. He settled himself down in a chair and and tried to rid himself of his sickly, almost poisoned feeling. He opened his case file while chugging the rest of his water but then all he could feel was his vision blurring, eyelids fighting to stay open, and eventually losing.

\-------

Owen Carvour was a world-renowned spy. He was good at his job and was held in the highest regards in most, if not all, spy circles. However, when he was briefed for the mission he was to be going on, he entirely grateful to hear that an American would be joining him, and even more grateful to hear that the American would be Curt Mega. 

Don’t get him wrong, Carvour figured he probably could have handled this mission by himself but something inside of him was happy to catch news of Mega’s involvement. The two had been going on more and more missions together and he had to say, Curt was growing on him. So much so to the point that with each new mission Owen was hoping he got paired with him. Usually he was not disappointed. It was almost as if the two agencies wanted them to be partners. It didn’t really matter though, both agents didn’t mind. 

Owen walked up into the plane to see Curt’s head pressed against the jet’s window. He took notice of the fact that Curt was surrounded by water bottles. He walked down the aisle and stopped took his seat across from Curt.

“Hey love.”

Curt’s eyes opened and he turned his head towards the noise. Curt was then greeted with the pleasant picture of Owen sitting across from him. “Hey Carvour, MI6 treating you well?”

“Ah, yes old boy. MI6 takes quite good care of their agents.” Owen looked towards the window as the plane took off from the ground. “I always forget how comfortable this jet is, we really got it made in the shade.”

Curt smiled at the man and opened the case file. “So, Alexander Koral? What about this guy?”

“Did you even read the file, Curt?” Owen’s words were annoyed but his tone was lighthearted, a weird mix coming from the stone-faced spy. Really, Owen thought it was a bit unprofessional of Curt to apparently not have even skimmed the file but he figured there was most likely a good reason. Or maybe he hoped. A mix of both, probably. 

“You’ll have to excuse me Owen, I was poisoned earlier today.” Curt cracked a smile. “I guess I chose the enemy tissue box in Cynthia’s office.”

Owen barked a quick laugh, “Only Cynthia, you know she keeps trying to get me to join the CIA?” 

“Well, I mean, only because you totally should.” Curt meant it as banter, but as he said it he found that he really believed his words. Instead of looking to see Owen’s reaction, he opened his file. 

Owen was a little taken aback but went on and looked through Koral’s file. “Well, after a quick glance, I’ve gathered that he’s American, although he was born in London. He’s also quite the notable spy in both the United States Communist Party and other Soviet groups.” Owen looked across to see Curt reading through the file, eyes deep in thought, sun coming through the plane window to land softly on Curt’s forehead. Curt looked up. Owen looked down.

“So, it says here that he’s stolen and leaked information countless amounts of times.” Curt flipped to a different page, scanning the information in front of him. “Why weren’t we brought in sooner?” Curt looked up from his file to see Owen looking at him once again. 

Owen shifted his gaze. “They knew we’d get it too fast, old boy.” He looked up again to find that Curt was staring at him. “Uh, anyways, in the file it says that he been detected a few times by the CIA, and that past agents haven’t had much luck in neutralizing this guy.” 

The way that Owen was looking at him made Curt nervous. “What do you mean-” Curt made air quotes, “haven’t had much luck?”

“Well,” Owen began, “it says here they didn’t make it out alive.” Owen’s voice shifted into a more serious tone at this, which contrasted heavily with the banter the two had moments before. “Which, you know, is not a great sign,” Owen ran his fingers through his hair and tried to bring some fun back. “My boss failed to tell me we were going to be dying on this mission.”

Curt was a little rattled. “Owen! We’re not gonna die!”

“What?” Owen, instead of explaining it was a joke, suddenly felt the need to defend himself. “We're going on a mission that other people have died on! It’s not like we’re invincible, Mega.”

Curt stared at Owen. If he was being honest, his feelings, or maybe ego, were a little scratched. “I would never let you die, Owen.” The two men stared at each other. 

“Well, I know that. That’s not what I meant.”

Curt took notice that Owen didn’t say it back, but it’s not like Owen would let him die. Right? They were partners, and they did this stuff together. He needed to stop overthinking this, Owen wouldn’t let him die and he knew that. 

The rest of the way was filled with slightly tense conversation, the sound of rustling papers, and lots of trips to the plane’s food and beverage station. Before the pair knew it the plane was descending and they were making their way into a taxi. 

Curt was the first to break the silence after the drive to the hotel. “So, do you know much about this place?”

Owen shook his head and walked up the hotel stairs. After checking into the hotel with some broken Russian, he led the way to their room.

“One room?”

“Two beds, Mega. Don’t get any ideas.” Owen turned around, grinned, and unlocked the room door.

Curt’s mind hit a barricade and he had to reboot. _What?_ He gave his head a small shake and then continued on into the room, where he claimed the far bed as his. He started to lay out his things for the next day when he heard the soft sounds of a shower starting from the bathroom. He took this as his chance to freak the fuck out about whatever Owen had meant by ‘Don’t get any ideas’ and to also check in with Barb, or something along the lines of both. 

Owen stepped out of the bathroom and saw that Curt was asleep. He checked his watch. They did have quite the early start tomorrow. He quickly set out some things that he’d need for tomorrow and laid down. After checking that he had set an alarm, Owen fell into a quiet sleep.

\-------

“Curt! Curt, I have news!” 

Curt was awoken to the voice of Barb yelling at him through his watch. For the past two days he and Owen had been trying to get close to Koral and hadn’t really gotten anywhere. “Yeah Barb, sock it to me.” 

“I’ve been checking in to satellite feeds and word on the street is that Koral is going to be at the Stakan Pub for a intelligence meeting at 2100! You have to be there, this could be your shot at taking him down!”

“Good find, thank you Barb!”

“No problem Curt! Stay safe, agents!”

And with a small crackle, Barb hung up. Curt was dimly aware of Owen rustling and getting ready. 

“You know where the Stakan Pub is, Carvour?”

“No, love, I don’t believe I do. Guess we either find a map or ask around.”

“First, breakfast.”

“Well, it’s good to know you have your priorities straight, Mega.”

\-------

Owen stepped out of the rain to step into a pub with low lighting and loud chatter. He was a little nervous, but seeing Curt next to him calmed his nerves. He followed Curt to the bar and tried to act natural as he sipped on a whiskey. “So, what’s your plan?”

“Asking me? Thought you were the put-together one, Carvour.” Curt grinned, “Wait until he leaves or gets away from his group. We’ll ambush him and take him in for interrogation.”

“So, what do you wanna do in the meantime?”

“Act natural. Haven’t you ever been in a pub?”

“Ah, yes sorry, I forgot you were an alcoholic. I prefer tea.”

Curt rolled his eyes. “Very fancy, Carvour. I don’t think you’ll be able to find your leaf water here, though.” 

“I’d rather drink dirt water than get drunk on the job.” Owen said, not-so subtly eyeing Curt’s almost finished glass.

Curt once again rolled his eyes. “Owen, you really don’t drink do you? One glass isn’t going to get me drunk, although you probably are such a lightweight one sip gets you blitzed.”

“Curt, I would absolutely love to continue this conversation where you insult me for making responsible decisions, but it looks like Koral might be on the move.” 

Curt looked around and saw Koral getting up and going towards the back exit. He waited for a couple seconds and then got up to follow, feeling Owen’s presence behind him. He pushed open the back door and saw Karol talking to a man he thought he recognized, but couldn’t quite place. The two men looked up at the sound. After a moment’s hesitation all four men started running. And oh my God Owen was fast. 

It doesn’t happen often, but sometimes people will ask Curt what it’s like to be a spy. And here is what he wishes he could say:

Running, running, and a lot more running.

Curt could see two things. Firstly, he could see Owen in front of him. He could also see Alexander Koral and, as Curt would later learn, Seymon Semenov, one of Koral’s contacts and who he delivered his intelligence to. Semenov was notorious for being one of many contacts throughout soviet spy groups. How sweet it would be to take down both of them.

Owen was running as fast as he could. In the back of his mind he registered that fact that Curt was behind him, his legs hurt, and that Koral was close to getting away. He picked up speed and prayed to God that Curt would too.

Curt saw Owen pick up speed once again and poured every once of his being into going faster. He watched as Karol led Semenov, Owen, and himself down yet another alleyway. In an almost cliche-like discovery, the four would find out that the alley had no exit, and the agent’s targets were blocked in. Lucky. 

Owen wasted no time in wrestling Koral to the ground, and by the sounds he was hearing next to him, he figured that Curt was doing the same with Semenov. A punch to Owen’s stomach caught him slightly off-guard, but he quickly returned the favor with a sharp jab to Koral’s nose. Owen landed many punches and took minimal damage himself until finally he was able to tie Koral’s hands behind his back and start a call to his boss. 

Curt was pretty proud of himself, if he had to say so himself. He kept watch over the two suspects as he heard his partner talking to his boss through his watch. He was already picturing Cynthia’s face when she caught news that Curt and Owen had gotten not only their target, but another large affiliate that had been on the CIA’s watchlist for months. 

“Okay love, I’ve got the safehouse coordinates. A car should be coming our way to take us there soon.” 

Curt nodded and let Owen take watch while he called Cynthia. He debated calling Barb as well but he heard a van drive up behind him. Curt helped Owen load both men into holding at the back, and then got into the van themselves. 

Owen didn’t recognize the driver, but tried to call make small talk with him anyways. He was always curious how much the drivers got paid. But Owen, always the people pleaser, was much too polite to ask. 

Curt was wondering why they didn’t just stay in the safe house on the long drive over, but once he saw the building he was glad to pay hotel fees. Remote and abandoned, a picture perfect place to interrogate Russian spies. 

“You aren’t going to get anything out of us.” Koral was really trying this shit.

Owen bit his retort and instead dragged Semenov out of the van, letting Curt take Koral. The Brit had no trouble with jostling his new mark around. He unlocked the door and pushed Semenov into a room. Pushing the enemy spy roughly into a chair and handcuffing his hands behind his back, Owen was ready to get all the information he needed. 

Curt could throw punch after punch all he wanted. He could kick, he could scratch, he could yell. Koral wasn’t talking to him. Curt tried not to show how irritated he was. He left the room.

Owen wasn’t having much luck with Semenov, but at least he was getting talked to. 

“We'll will never tell you what you want to know. We're either gonna die in interrogation or die after telling you what you want. Do you really think we’re that stupid?” 

Owen was beyond frustrated. He left the room. 

Curt saw Owen close his door behind him. The American strode over. “You getting anywhere with Semenov?” He watched Owen shake his head. “Me neither.” 

“Perhaps we should trade?”

“That might be the smartest thing you’ve said all day, and it wasn’t even that good.” 

Owen rolled his eyes and walked away. He closed the door and heard the click from Curt’s room as well. Owen pulled out the chair and sat across from Koral. He sat for a few moments, just listening to the other’s heavy breathing. Owen wasn’t going to be the first to break the silence. He wanted Koral uncomfortable. So, he sat. And stared. And didn’t say a word. 

“You might as well just kill me now.”

Owen raised an eyebrow. He bit his tongue. No, he wouldn’t respond. 

“I’m not going to talk.”

 _What are you doing right now, fuckface?_ Owen still didn’t talk. 

“You aren’t worth my time.”

Owen mentally rolled his eyes. Really? He was going to try to insult him? 

“God, this is so boring. I’ll let you in on a secret, agent, I’m quite good at holding my words.” 

“Could’ve fooled me. You won’t shut the fuck up. All you’re doing is talking about how much you don’t talk. Jesus, it wouldn’t surprise me if someone leaked your location to us just so they didn’t have to deal with that damn mouth of yours.”

“Someone leaked my location? Who the hell would be that stupid? I have more information than most of the entire CPUSA put together!” 

“I don’t believe you.” Owen was stone faced, but damn if he wasn’t smirking on the inside. 

“You- You don’t believe me?” 

“No, not really. You’re so arrogant you would have already told me something just to see my reaction. You’re not any more special than any other mark I’ve interrogated and broke.” With those words, Owen got up and he left the room, door clicking softly behind him.

Curt didn’t know much about Semenov. He didn’t really want to know much about Semenov. He glared at the man. “So, how’d you two meet?”

“Don’t bother, we both know you aren’t gonna get anything out of me.” 

Well that wasn’t nice. “I wouldn’t talk so soon, but fair enough.” Curt took a shot in the dark. “What about your family? How do they feel about your work? They missing you tonight?” Very lucky guess. Curt watched the man tense up ever so slightly. He winked at Semenov and left the room. 

Owen was sitting on the grimy couch with a lukewarm beer in his hands. He was looking up at the ceiling, eyes closed, lips slightly opened. 

“I thought you didn’t drink on the job, Carvour.”

“It’s different when you’re a bee’s dick's length away from getting your mark to give you information, love.” Owen might have been feeling a little cocky, but he was sure no one could tell.

“Wow, a little cocky, aren’t we, Carvour?” Curt had a strange feeling in his stomach

Curt could definitely tell. “If you knew how he was acting, you’d be cocky too. Of course, you don’t need to actually achieve something to be cocky, Curt, you just are.” Owen winked at Curt and looked up at the ceiling again. 

Curt’s ears flushed. “Watch your mouth, agent.” 

“Such an elegant comeback, Mega.”

Curt flipped Owen off and walked away. He needed to check in with Cynthia. 

Owen chuckled to himself and downed the rest of his beer. He threw his bottle into what he assumed to be the trash can, it was hard to tell with all of the filth everywhere, and walked into Koral’s room. Here we go again.

Curt was a stellar agent. With that being said, he sure was being a dumbass right now. It’s like he forgot every ounce of his training. At this point in his life he has interrogated more suspects than he has ate pancakes but for the life of him he can’t figure out how to get Semenov to spill his secrets. 

“Tell me about your family”

“No.”

Well, he tried. Curt sat down and stared at the man. A lot of interrogation was just staring. Huh, interesting. He thought for a second. “You’re Jewish, aren’t you?”

“No, I’m not. Not after I’ve worked so hard to cover it up”

“You know, your reputation in the CPUSA would really take a hit if that got out.” Curt stood up and walked around Semenov. “Your family would certainly take a hit too.” Curt sat back down and smirked. 

Owen sat down again. He was fine with just sitting. Staring. Waiting. Staring and waiting, waiting and staring.

“The reason I haven’t told you anything is because I don’t think you’re a good enough agent.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“I promised myself from day one I would never be brought down by a stupid ass, incompetent agent. That’s why I didn’t talk to your partner. And that’s why I haven’t told you anything.” 

Owen felt his fist clench slightly as Koral suggested that Curt was incompetent, but definitely didn’t change face. Owen was a good agent. “And I haven’t proven myself to be a good enough agent?”

“Not yet.”

Owen pursed his lips and stood up. “You are Alexander Koral, your wife is named Helen and is also heavily involved in your little group. Which, by the way, is nicknamed ‘Berg’. You worked for the Board of Education in New York around 1926 until you got kicked out and became an assistant engineer in 1948-”

“That’s all the things in my file, yeah. I really thought that you would have a better pitch for me, agent.” 

Owen flexed his fingers in and out before taking his seat. “Your son is dying because you don’t have the money to pay his medical bills. That’s the only reason you do this work, you need the money.”

“You shouldn’t know that.”

“And yet here we are.” Owen stretched his hands above his head and stifled a yawn. Really, he loved having marks like this. Koral was important in his circle but greatly undervalued, which caused him to have a weird mix of insecurity and doubt embedded into his mind. He didn’t really know just how valuable his work was. But, since he was expected to, he put on a sauve face to carefully conceal the fact that he was constantly unsure of everything he did. Really made it easy for Owen to say a few offhand comments and he would be fighting for the chance to prove himself to his enemy. Quite the interesting concept actually.

“How about we make things a little more interesting?”

“I’ll bite.”

“You, me, a gun, one bullet.”

It took a second to set into Owen’s brain. Oh. No. Never play Russian Roulette with only two people. “How about we make it even more interesting?” 

“Alright, let me have it.”

“How about we invite the-” Owen’s brain short-circuited. He didn’t think about his words before he said them, his mother would be so disappointed. Owen really didn’t want to drag Curt into this. Curt. Suddenly a thousand images flooded Owen’s mind. Curt with soft beams of light spread across his face. Asleep on a plane, snoring softly. All the times that Owen had thrown an arm around his American while they were walking. The gentleness in Curt’s voice when Owen had gotten shot in the field. Oh, how he craved that gentleness. He could die happy if he died listening to the sound of Curt’s voice. Owen remembered Curt’s teasing smile and the light banter that they always managed to keep. Owen remembered Curt’s gentle laugh. He loved it when he made Curt laugh. He saw Curt running during his daily workout, sweat on his brow and the back of his neck. He saw Curt holding a wedding ring, and he somehow knew that he was the one who gave it to him. Owen snapped back to reality. “-other two over and really have a party?”

“Sounds fun. I’m in.”

Owen didn’t reply. Instead he stood up and left.

Curt heard a knock on the door and got up to answer. It was Owen. 

“Hey, Mega. I need you outside for a sec.” Owen didn’t wait for Curt. He just left.

Curt got up and went outside. “What’s up, Owen?”

“You ready for some Russian Roulette?”

“I’m sorry, what?” Curt had to think about the words. “Uh, sure. Just let me check in with Cynthia first.”

“I don’t know old boy. Not sure if we have time for that. Koral is being a little bitch about everything and I really don’t want him to think that we don’t care. If Cynthia tries to chew your ass, I’ll take the blame. She loves me.”

“Ugh, yes she does. Okay, I’ll go get Koral and bring him into the room with Semenov.”

“Curt, wait! Your gun.”

“Oh yeah. Here.” Curt handed Owen the gun and went to go get Koral. As soon as he walked into the room, Koral’s entire body language changed. It was like seeing him change into a different human. 

“Oh, it’s you. Waste of a fucking spy.”

Curt untied Koral from his chair. Careful to make sure he had a good grip on his mark, he led him out of the room. “Hey, go get the other chairs and bring them into Semenov’s room.” Curt brought Koral into Semevov’s room and waited for Owen to bring the chairs. 

Owen still had Curt’s gun. Well, he guessed Curt wouldn’t need it anyways. He picked up the chairs and dragged them outside of Semenov’s room. He stood there and checked the gun once more. He walked in.

Curt shoved Koral down into a chair next to Semenov. Koral’s handcuffs were rearranged so that he had one free hand to hold a gun and one hand cuffed to the table. Owen sat across from Koral with an empty chair on his left, and watched Curt fuss over Semenov’s bounds. 

“Can you just sit down jackass, I’m not going anywhere.”

That earned Semenov a quick jab to the nose. “My pleasure, dickwad.”

Owen waited until Curt took his seat to bring out Curt’s gun. Curt reached for it.

“Oh, thanks.” 

Owen pulled the gun away and looked across the table. “Here is the gun we’re going to use.” He opened the chamber to show that there was one bullet loaded. He spun the cylinder. “So you guys know its fair. Curt will go first, and then we will go counter-clockwise around the table until one of us loses.” 

Curt took the gun out of Owen’s hand. He thought about his cat at home and Barb. He thought about Cynthia. He thought about his mother. He pulled the trigger. 

_Click._

Curt slid the gun over to Semenov. He watched as the man took a deep breath and picked up the gun. He saw Owen raise his hand and point his gun at Semenov. The mark rolled his eyes and pointed Curt’s gun at his head. Semenov let his eyes flutter shut and pulled the trigger as he sighed.

_Click._

Semenov slid the gun over to Koral. Curt watched Owen’s hand slide over to aim the gun at the other mark, almost lazily. Koral showed zero hesitation. In one fluid motion he brought the gun to his head and situated his finger over the trigger. His finger pressed down.

_Click._

Curt watched the gun slide over to Owen. He was getting nervous. He watched Owen reach for the gun. Owen. Curt saw the pile of paperwork that he had on his desk, and imagined the pile of paperwork on Owen’s desk, undoubtedly much more neat. Most of the files would be over the same missions. Curt could feel Owen’s gentle touches on the shoulder that he had become accustomed to being greeted with. Curt saw Owen’s chest going up and down with each breath. Curt saw Owen’s graceful dancing, long legs hitting every step perfectly in time. Curt remembered all the times he heard the words ‘MI6’ and ‘Owen Carvour’ in the same sentence and the way his heart sped up when he heard them. Curt saw Owen’s long, deft fingers and how they looked playing the piano. That was one of the best missions he had been on in a while. He could remember the first time they met, and Owen’s handshake. He remembered the American accent he tried to do when Curt got him mad, or the way that his own British accent gets thicker when he’s sleepy. Curt saw Owen’s cheeky grin. ‘Don’t get any ideas, Mega.’ He suddenly felt like he was punched in the face. What if I never see his smile again? “I’ll go again.”

Owen stopped his hand mid-air. _What?_ “What?”

“I said that I would take your turn.”

“How queer.”

Curt stomped on Semenov’s foot, crushing his toes, and felt a wave of satisfaction when he yelped.

Owen didn’t feel like arguing, and instead handed Curt his gun. 

Curt accepted the gun and brought the weapon to his head. He closed his eyes. He thought of Owen, and the ghost of a smile slid onto his face. He put his finger over the trigger and let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. He pressed the trigger down.

_BANG._

Curt’s eyes jerked open. He saw Semenov laying on the table, blood running down his forehead. He looked to Owen, who was in a perfect depiction of shooting follow-through. 

“What a dumbass.” Koral’s features were twisted into those of contempt. 

Curt ignored Koral’s remark and looked to his partner for an explanation. 

Owen put his hand down. “He lunged for you right as you pulled the trigger.”

 _Oh._ Curt ran his hands through his hair.

“I have to say, I wasn’t expecting you to do that.” Koral was staring at Owen. “You cost yourself information for that queer?” 

Curt got up and left the room. He heard Koral’s laugh from inside. He sat down. 

Owen cuffed Koral’s hands behind his back and led him back to his own room. He tied him up again, then walked out of the room.

“You didn’t have to do that. What was he gonna do, scratch me? He could barely reach me.”

Owen sighed. “What information did you get out of him, Curt? It’s best to compare notes now, so please share with the class.”

Curt looked up at Owen. “He’s Jewish.” 

Owen waited a moment, ready to hear what else Curt had got. “Okay, great. And?”

Curt averted his gaze. “He’s Jewish.”

Owen did a double take. “That’s all you got? That he’s Jewish?” A dark place in his mind reminded him of Koral’s words. _‘Incompetent agent, didn’t talk to your partner, waste of a spy.”_

“Well, I could’ve gotten more out of him if you didn’t shoot him for moving!”

“Shoot- shoot him for moving?! He lunged across the table and reached his arms out to you and that’s shooting him for moving?! I probably saved your life!”

Curt clenched his jaw. “ _You_ saved my _life_? What about the fact that I volunteered myself for you! I put myself in the line of danger for you, and, by the way, I have yet to hear a thank you for it!” 

Owen’s face darkened. “You didn’t do jack shit, Curt.”

“Are you stupid? How is taking your turn, knowing that I could have gotten shot, not doing anything?” Curt stood up and went into Semenov’s room to get his gun, ignoring the still bleeding corpse. He heard the door shut and spun around.

“You are one of the most unprofessional, useless, and egotistical agents I have ever worked with, Mega.” Owen’s voice was a steady and quiet. 

“I’m sorry, what the fuck did you just say?” Curt stared into the Brit’s eyes, almost as if he was daring him to repeat himself.

“You heard me. You really want to take credit for ‘putting yourself in the danger’ for me?” Owen stepped closer to Curt. “Well here. The gun doesn’t have any real bullets in it. Barb showed me some weird new bullets that were designed to stun, so I switched them out. You were never sacrificing yourself for me!” 

Some part of Curt deflated. “What?”

“You were never the hero.”

“So, it’s not a live round?” Curt closed the rest of the gap between him and Owen to pick up the gun.

“God, Curt, yes! It’s fake!” Owen was getting tired of this. He didn’t want to talk to Curt right now, he wanted to go interrogate Koral. 

“If it’s fake-“ Curt handed to gun to Owen, “then you’ll have no problem shooting me.” Curt guided the gun to his chest, directly above his heart. “It’s not like it’ll hurt, right?”

Owen set the gun down on the table. “Curt stop it. You’re just pissed that you didn’t get to play hero and sacrifice yourself for me.”

Curt took a step back and grabbed the gun from the table. “I’m pissed because I wasn’t the hero?! No Owen, I’m pissed because I thought you were going to die!” He pointed the gun at Owen, and he tried to ignore the fact that his hand was shaking slightly. “I’m pissed because I thought I was going to die after I stepped up to save you! I’m pissed because you would’ve let me die!” They both ignored the quiver in his voice. 

“Curt, please! I would never let you die!” Owen watched as Curt lowered his arm. He felt tears spring into his eyes. “I love you.” Owen moved forward and pressed his lips to Curt’s. He felt Curt tense and then relax into the kiss. Then, he felt the cool feeling of metal dragging up his arm, and took a shaky step back.

Curt smiled sadly. “I know you do.” He raised the gun back up to Owen’s head, and pulled the trigger.

**Author's Note:**

> That was the first fic I've written since I wrote Harry Potter fanfiction when I was like 9, so I hope it wasn't bad! This was also only meant to be about 1.5k words, so rip me. I just wanna thank the SAF Discord for encouraging me to write this and keeping me motivated when I needed it! You guys are the best.


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